The Ones We Let Go
by kissables333
Summary: Requested.


_A one-shot request for illsym._

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* * *

_**2017**

Standing in the crowded train station, he bid his son goodbye and took his wife's hand as they watched their son board the train for Hogwarts.

He could not help himself; he could not control his actions as he instinctively searched the crowd for her. It was foolish of him to bother. She would not be there.

x x x

**5****th**** Year – 1995**

"Crabbe and Weasley. Longbottom and Parkinson. Goyle and Granger. Malfoy and Scott…"

Professor Snape was assigning partners to make some potion; the boy hadn't been paying much attention. His partner would do the work, given that he wasn't paired with some incompetent fool. Draco closed his eyes and folded his hands behind his head.

"Malfoy."

"What?" he snapped.

"We need to get to work."

He opened one eye and was met by the site of a Gryffindor insignia.

Rolling his eyes, he scanned up and found curly blonde hair accompanied with hazel eyes.

"Get to it then."

"This is a group project Malfoy. I understand that you don't want to parade your incompetence for all to see, but at least try to be of _some_ use."

He probably would have appreciated her spunk had it not been used in disrespect toward him.

"Scott," he said sitting up, "_I _am Draco—"

"Yes, I'm aware _who _you are." she said leaning in toward him after she took the empty seat next to him. "And perhaps, if you stopped _trading _on your _daddy's _name, I might have more respect for you." Then she smirked at him before tucking her hair behind her ear and turning to the potion book before her.

He didn't move for a moment. _No one_ spoke to him like that.

It was intriguing—_she_ was intriguing.

**6****th**** Year – 1996**

"Draco…" she giggled as he kissed her neck.

"Come on." he said, pulling away for a moment so that he could take her hand and led her further down the corridor.

"Where are we going tonight?" she whispered in his ear.

"I was thinking the beach." he returned as he couldn't resist leaning in and sucking on her ear as he pushed her against the wall. Francis Scott…on a beach…with him. He almost shivered with excitement at the thought.

"Someone might come." she whispered in caution, her breath raising goose bumps on his skin. "Someone might see."

He grinned; luckily she couldn't see him in the shadows of the corridor.

Letting go of her, and hating the loss of contact, he walked in front of the door three times. Grabbing her close again, he opened the door and pulled them both inside.

Before them was the swelling ocean; beneath their feet was warm sand. Laid out a little ways away was a blanket with a picnic basket. Not able to wait any longer to have her, he pulled them both down onto the warm sand.

Straddling her waist, he began to unbutton her shirt while she watched him. She shrugged off the shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her.

After they were done, they'd made their way to the picnic basket and ate.

"What's wrong?" he asked; she was being quiet. Usually, _afterward_ she was smiling and happy and she _always _kept kissing him.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly.

"Well," he said with a smirk on his face as he reached out to hold her. "We've been on top of the Eiffel Tower, a meadow, the beach—"

"No." she interrupted as she turned her hazel eyes to him. "Where are _we_ going? What is this?"

He pulled back for a moment. "This is fun. I—" Apparently this was the wrong thing to say as she began to button up her shirt. "Fran—"

"Is that all this is to you?" she asked as she stood up.

"Yes?" he said in surprise. "_Fun_. Fran—"

"No. Draco. What we were doing was—"

"Sex. We were having _sex_ and it was _fun_!" he exclaimed.

"So what? I'm just…a fling? I don't mean anything? You don't care for me…at all?" she asked as she adopted a harsh tone while her eyes filled with tears.

Damn, she was crying.

"Fran, look…we're just having fun. That's all it was—"

"Not for me." she hissed as he tried to grab her hand.

"Fran, come on. Don't overreact."

"Damn it! Draco!" she yelled. "This wasn't just a fling for me! I like you! And clearly I'm an idiot for that. I should've known that you were here for your own gratification. You didn't care."

"It's not my fault you thought something was here that isn't."

"Yeah, you're right. It's my fault for being such an idiot." With that she left and slammed the door behind her.

She was upset and he didn't understand why. They'd been having fun. That was it. Nothing more. Did she think they ever could've had a relationship? It was a fling. It wasn't his fault that she didn't understand that.

He should've left her alone. He shouldn't have bothered her after they ended, but he did.

Draco passed her one night at the library as she researched for a Charms essay. Suddenly, he was unable to control his hand as it reached out and pulled one of her blonde curls.

She whirled around with a confused look on her face and jolted slightly at seeing him. It seemed she got control of herself as she rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

But it seemed that he became addicted. Every time he saw her in the corridors or got close to her in class, he would pull on a curl of hers. Fran had the type of curls that were springy enough to bounce back when he pulled them. She would get so mad and it just made him smile—to himself, that is. Draco Malfoy did not smile, especially at a Gryffindor.

He had managed to get Fran to hate him, which was fine with him really.

Draco didn't have time for a girlfriend; especially one who was a Gryffindor and one who would hate him by the end of the year away. He could live just fine without Francis Scott.

He had reached out to pull one of her curls but she whirled around and slapped his hand away.

"What do you want from me?" she asked; if he hadn't been taught to not flinch, he probably would've winced at the pain in her voice. "Why can't you just leave me alone? We're not having sex anymore. I don't understand why you're still around. What do you want from me?"

"I don't know." he replied just as quietly because as she unflinchingly stared at him with her hurt hazel eyes, he didn't know what to do or say.

"You don't know?" she asked incredulously. "Just leave me alone."

"I can't." he blurted out.

"Why?"

"Because you're a challenge." he had replied stupidly.

"Glad to know I'm just a game for your amusement, Malfoy." she snapped before turning on her heel and walking away.

Why did she have to make such a big deal out of everything? What had been going on between them was _fun_. It had taken his mind off of his mission—off the fact that he was going to become a murderer because of the mark on his arm.

It was just fun. Nothing more.

Snape was pulling him through the students, teachers, and Death Eaters fighting.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of curly blonde hair.

But she was busy dueling and did not see the spell coming at her.

His heart thudded in his chest—adrenaline, he assumed.

"Fran, duck!" he yelled, attempting to get away from Snape to help her.

She heard his warning and ducked in time to avoid the spell.

Her hazel eyes found his and he was frozen for a moment as her cold gaze met hers.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing the Dark Mark for all to see.

For the first time, she saw him for who he was amid the battle with the symbol of his corruption burned onto his arm.

She turned away from him and an inexplicable pain took hold of his heart. Snape pulled him away and out of the castle.

Draco spent much of the summer lying on his bed, excessively bored.

Something seemed to be missing from his life. There was something that he longed for but he could not name what exactly it was that he needed.

Sighing, he rummaged through his school trunk, the house-elves had been told to not touch his things and he had neglected to unpack it.

Pushing various items aside, he was suddenly hit with a familiar smell—one that he hadn't encountered in the longest time.

It smelled distinctly of cinnamon. He found the offending garment and pulled it out of his trunk. It was a black button up shirt. But he didn't know why—"

And then he remembered. The memory flew into his mind and shone brightly.

Fran had worn his shirt. During one of their _meetings_ late at night, they'd fallen asleep as it had been very late. Fran had fallen asleep in his shirt. Her scent had permeated the fabric. Unable to help himself, Draco kept the shirt outside of his closet.

As the days passed, he realized the cinnamon smell of the shirt was returning him to the times he spent with Fran. He realized that as the smell faded, the ache in his heart and throughout his body grew worse.

Things weren't right with her gone. Suddenly he didn't know how he'd survived his whole life without her. He swore that the next time he saw her, he would get her back.

He didn't know that the next time he saw her would be during chaos.

Good and evil had converged upon Hogwarts to fight.

The only problem was that he didn't know what side he was on.

At one point he was dueling his former peers and then suddenly, he had stunned a Death Eater who tried to attack Fran.

Fran. His eyes constantly searched for her. He had to make sure she was safe.

And then Potter was dead and it seemed that there was no point for the "good" guys to fight any longer. Yet they persisted. They fought the Death Eaters with tooth and nail.

Somewhere in the din, he heard Fran call out his name but he couldn't find her.

Things were flying by him so very fast. Spells and noises and people.

Then Voldemort was dead and Potter lived again.

There was celebration; Draco found his parents and together they huddled away from the celebration, suddenly lost and without a place in the world. But Draco was looking for her. He hadn't found her.

But then his eyes landed on a site that he wished he could unsee. There was a mess of blonde curls covered in blood.

He broke anyway from his parents and ran past the dead who lay on the floor until he got to her.

Kneeling by her side, he ran a tender down her cheek; she was still warm.

"Fran…" he whispered but she could not hear.

"Malfoy…" a quiet voice called to him.

His eyes moved to a boy he'd seen her with often. He didn't know the boy's name.

"What happened?" Draco asked, turning his eyes to the girl.

"You were dueling someone. She called out your name to warn you that someone was about to attack you from behind but you couldn't hear. She dived in front of you. The curse—whatever it was—made her bleed out."

"She—…" She had saved him. After everything he'd done to her, she had saved him at the cost of her own life.

"She loved you." the friend said and turned away from the sight.

"Fran…" he whispered shaking with anger at the war for taking her away, at her for being so stupid as to sacrifice herself, at himself for not saving her and at himself for letting her go.

"I'm sorry." he whispered and placed a final kiss on her forehead.

x x x

**2017**

Every time he was in a crowd, he looked for a mass of curly blonde hair instinctively and stupidly. He knew she wouldn't be there. He knew she was gone.

The only remnant of her was the fresh pain in his chest every morning.


End file.
